Permission to Stand
by Croutonic Sarcasm
Summary: "To your knees." The boot-clad foot of Germany's Führer was placed upon the country's bent knees, the blond man obeying without question.  "Ja, mein Führer." Germany/Hitler for my Germany.


"To your knees." The boot-clad foot of Germany's Führer was placed upon the country's bent knees, the blond man obeying without question.

"Ja, mein Führer." Ludwig said simply, obeying, due to the superiority of his master. He would not disobey for fear of the retribution- he was no fool, and he felt no reason to rebel against a man who hed his life in his hands.

"Bow your head." The shoe was removed and the owner of it stepped back to watch as Ludwig's head smoothly dropped to face the ground, icy blue hues facing the dirt floor of his own tent, the light of the sying sun illuminating through the green material and coloring everything in a dull pine-green.

"Ja, mein Führer." Ludwig answered, mind elsewhere though his body fell into line. _Italien..._ His thoughts were far from the tent, back in his own mansion of a home with the Italian atop of him, sweaty bodies rocking with every groan, though he was quiet. He was never loud, though Feliciano had been so very vocal, almost screaming as he felt Ludwig pump into him.

"...I said, _get up._" Ludwig felt a pinch of fear twist in his gut and he stood immediately, towering over his dark-haired leader. He stood proudly, as any Aryan German man would, his face placid and smooth. His leader, however, was less than pleased that he had to repeat himself.

"What were your thoughts turned towards?" He asked with a sharp tone. How dare Deutschland's thoughts not be upon his Führer at all times, especially when he was right before the man? How dare he disrespect the Nazi ruler.

"I was merely thinking of my Führer's obvious superiority to all others and how the Third Rechi shall flourish under your superb rule." He lied easily, not a whit of his face giving away the truth. The man knew, however.

"Back to your knees." The man commanded before turning away, knowing that Ludwig would obey even if he did not keep tabs on him. The man pulled up a small stool, though of chair height so he did not look foolish, then turned his dark eyes back to the nation. "Before me, now."

Ludwig was there in moments, eyes downcast and looking at shoes, though he knew that something was different. There was something wrong, there was just the feeling of a punishment in the air. Did he feel the mental rebellion? Did he know of his attachment to the Italian? Fear made his stomach knot.

"Look up and to me." Ludwig's gaze rose, passing over the clothed legs and torso with a passive glance to the man. "You have been lying to me. You have been with the Italian, Feliciano Vargas." Ludwig merely blinked. If he knew, there was no point in denying.

"I will teach you proper respect and who to bend rules for- only for the man who made them." Ludwig was confused. What was he speaking of? A moment later, seeing the man stand and drop his pants to the ground, Ludwig understood. His eyes widened before he could stop it, but he quickly returned his features to the placid mask.

"Ah, you understand." He seemed amused. "Don't look so surprised. It's not as though I plan on enjoying it, though I do hope you will learn that you are to touch nothing that I do not command you to touch." Ludwig's nose wrinkled just a little as he remembered the parade of beautiful, big-busted, intelligent, blond and blue-eyed women he had been compelled to impregnate. What son would not want the very Fatherland for a father? What woman would not prostrate herself for the most perfect Aryan; indeed, THE Aryan?

"Suck it."

"Ja, mein Führer."

As Ludwig went to work, hearing nothing but slightly deeper breathing from the man who sat upon the stool, he began to understand just how hypocritical the Reich was. The man who lead was dark eyed and dark haired- yet he demanded pale hair, blond, and pale eyes, blue. He called Germans the superior race, yet he was Austrian. The country of his origin was now locked away for the religion the country chose to practice loosely, his very name a call to his religon; Edelstein... a Jew.

Soon, Ludwig's task was completed and he was left alone in the tent, still on his knees. He had not been given permission to stand yet.


End file.
